A story about boar hunting

The fourth night I sit on the tower, the guard of the boar. Just today I have to get it. Yes, today, and this particular boar. Firstly, I am leaving at night, and secondly, it’s not just a boar, but a beast that I haven’t seen in my rather large practice. For three nights in a row, he goes out to my tower at the same time, walks in circles, snorts, cracks with branches, but is not substituted for the shot. However, today I prepared a surprise, and he must make a mistake. But everything is in order.

In the Tver region, I came specifically for the trophy boar. And it’s not because I’m such a zealous trophy collector, I’m just tired of shooting stupid priovikov, stupid piglets and even a little more cunning three-year-olds. At my telephone request, the huntsmen built three new sidushkas — temporary shelters closer to the marsh, where the old cleavers live and fed them. A few days later I was informed that the boars began to walk. On the first evening on arrival I am going to occupy one of them. A quick look at the “tower” horrifies. This is anything, but not a hunting shed. Two transverse holes, depicting a ladder, and two at the top for sitting, were nailed to two thin nuts. In this case, the whole structure swings in the wind over an incredible amplitude, even without a rider. And how do you order to sit on this device for several hours?

But there is nothing to do; I climb and mount the thin sticks riding all the appropriate places. A nightmare, but still sitting. It was getting dark, and I was continuously, because the gun still had nowhere to go, I looked around all the available sites in the night sight, which Novosibirsk residents had given me on this hunt. The sight is cool, of the third generation, the visibility is excellent, one drawback – it is completely devoid of multiplicity, and it is problematic to use it as binoculars. After a couple of hours, all the members go numb, and I’m constantly spinning, trying to get comfortable. And got it. During the next leg transfer, during which the whole structure creaked, a loud “Fu-uh” rang out from the bushes nearby. Everything, I discovered, and the boar will not come out, which is a pity. Judging by the powerful lungs, there is something serious. However, at that time I had not imagined yet how Just in case, I notice the exit time – 18.35, and immediately I see two shadows approaching the feeder. The sight clearly catches a pair of raccoons, so that even their cunning faces are visible. One mistrustfully spins near a pile of corn, and the second, without hesitation for a long time, begins to crunch it. For half an hour he eats standing up, and then, apparently, having filled his belly, lies directly on the pile, but continues to eat. Sitting is not so boring, after all, I’m not alone. My new friends are frightened off only by the flashlight of the huntsman who came after me.

The next day we arrive early, but with an ax, boards and nails. We bring the seat in the proper form, i.e. we build practically anew. Now it is a tower, you can sit with comfort and for as long as you wish. This time the raccoons were the first to declare and were divided according to the scenario from yesterday. One also staggers around, and the second zahrumkal, lay down on a pile of corn. But he did not have to bliss for long. At the appointed time, 18.35, the powerful “Fu-uh” sounded again, and the “dogs” as if blown away. And actually why “Fu-uh”? I sat quietly, did not smoke, he shouldn’t smell me. It turns out he could. He just figured me out. The cleaver clearly suspected my presence and, snorting, cut circles around the tower. Moreover, when, in the distance, a herd heading toward the trough rattled, he rushed to meet him and chased him away. Himself, after walking a little more and snorting, too, went into the swamp.

The next day, I asked to take a pile with bait twice as far from the tower (maybe it doesn’t like that), and pour the second pile on a small glade – perhaps it will be interesting. The third evening gave me a lot of pleasure. The raccoon, who declared himself at his usual place, suddenly did not find the supper put to him. You should have seen his disappointed face (in the sight I could observe all his grimaces). How so? Every day was corn, but today is not? With a completely “dead” look, he was spinning in the old place and sniffing the ground. The grief of the deceived being was obvious. However, we must pay tribute to the animal, he orientated rather quickly and seeded to the new location of the heap. I imagine how he, with a blissful sigh, habitually lay down his stomach on the corn and zaprmkal. But he was blissful again not for long, soon the one whom I was waiting for appeared. I immediately recognized him by his brazen and confident approach. Having banished the raccoons, the boar started for me. This time he not only snorted, but growled. Yes, yes, I myself first heard a boar growl. It roars like a tiger or a very large dog.